| INSIGHT | COLUMNS & GUIDANCE The Mitzvah Messenger by Sandy Swanson Second of a series Last month I wrote about how I became Marshall Wright's spiritual agent, carrying his intention and money to Vietnam in order to perform the mitzvah of tzedaka, or carrying out God's just action to those in need. By honoring me with this sacred trust, Marshall invoked God's protection for me as His/Her agent. I thought that was simply a lovely gesture; I never realized how much help I would actually need. No sign at Tan Son Nhat airport says "Welcome to Vietnam." Standing in line with Dr. Ty and his family, I watched the immigration officers in their military uniforms pass judgment on passports and visas. Supervisors, Communist Party officials, watched carefully -- both the passengers from our flight and the duty officers. It was common knowledge that an American $5 bill in your passport sped the process along, depending on which agent you went to and which supervisor was watching. After 27 hours in the air, I'd stopped worrying about my visa. Back at home, when I discovered my visa had already expired, Dr. Ty called our travel agent for help. She told us not to worry, she would have the Vietnamese embassy in Washington fax a waiver to Tan Son Nhat. It happened all the time. "You will need to pay $10 when you arrive," she said. Looking around at the hundreds of ex-patriot Vietnamese waiting to come home to visit, listening to the roar of voices in the sweltering barn-like holding area, I searched for any sign of joy. All I felt was wariness. I touched my chest and felt the little money pouch tucked inside my bra. Inside, Marshall's tzedaka reminded me that I would find joy here. I would help create it. The first immigration officer I went to looked at my visa, looked at me, looked at Ty. "Khong," he said. No. He sent us to a separate desk, away from the mass of passengers waiting to be processed. On the way there, Ty slipped a $100 bill into my passport and nodded at me confidently. As he explained our story to the officers, I watched him do what he does best. Ty is nothing if not a weaver of convincing tales. His political savvy and subtlety charm those he meets into a willing trance. One of the officers took my passport and told us to sit down away from their desk. In a few minutes he returned and held out the $100 bill. As I took it, my stomach lurched. I'd forgotten Ty's charm might not be anything unique in his homeland, the place where he learned the art of innuendo and gamesmanship. Soon, a supervisor who spoke English arrived. "There is nothing we can do for you," he said to me. "You must leave the country. You must return to Hong Kong on the next flight. It departs in 15 minutes. Please go with my assistant." A female officer materialized at my side. She took my elbow firmly and led me away to the baggage claim where I identified my bags. She ordered another officer to retag them for Hong Kong. Ty stayed behind to keep working the officers, sure he could still hit on the right combination of contrition, indignation and bribery that would allow me entry. I caught a brief glimpse of his daughter, Tho, waiting worriedly on the far side of the big room. Then the officer marched me through the gate and onto the plane to Hong Kong. In shock, I stared out the window at the tin roof of the airport, the tarmac moving under the belly of the plane. Ty didn't know where I was. I didn't speak either Vietnamese or Chinese. As the big Cathay Pacific jet lifted off the runway, I touched the pouch at my breast and thought Now what? Next month: The Hong Kong Decision Sandy Swanson is a ministerial guide at Lake Harriet Spiritual Community, a certified Reiki practitioner and Sound Healer, and a student of the Mysteries. She offers spiritual guidance; classes on healing, sound and meditation; and rituals to connect with Nature and open to the Divine. Sandy can be reached at (651) 436-1965 or sswanson@visi.com. Copyright 2001 Sandy Swanson |
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Oct 2001 |
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